


The Dancer

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Play, Ankle Cuffs, Belly Dancing, Bracelets, Castration, Cock Cages, Collars, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Jewelry, M/M, Master Castiel, Master/Slave, Mirror Sex, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sexual Slavery, Slave Dean, Small Penis, Sounding, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: Prompt: Sex slave!Dean, newly castrated and penis shortened, wearing only slave bracelets, a jeweled metal collar, and a jeweled sound in the stubby remains of his cock and forced to dance erotically for his master before being fucked by him.





	

Decoration. That’s what he was now. 

Dean didn’t miss the stares as he was lead through the hallways of the manor. He kept his head down, not meeting anyone’s eyes. They weren’t looking at him, not really. They were looking at another of his master’s possessions. Art in motion. 

The people turning to look weren’t granted the full spectacle. When being moved from place to place, Dean was usually granted the luxury of clothing- a loose wrap, or a sarong. Today it was a pale silk robe, embellished with small gems and detailed embroidery in forest green. Dean had no illusions that this perfunctory accommodation was for his benefit. The robe was not there to protect his modesty; it was a work of art. His body was there to show it off.  

The man leading him reached their destination and pulled the door open, gesturing for Dean to enter. The wood floor was smooth and cool beneath his bare feet. When he looked up, he saw that one full wall was lined with mirrors. 

The man who had led him here appeared behind him. His hands rested on Dean’s shoulders, and Dean remained still as the garment was removed. He was left standing bare, watching himself in the glass.

He still wasn’t accustomed to the alterations his new master had made to him. He’d been a house slave before, plain and functional. He was permitted to bathe and given simple cotton garments, but no one had ever thought to look at him. Not until his new master.  

This master wanted people to look. He took great pleasure accenting Dean’s body with silver and gems. A tiny emerald winked from the ring through Dean’s septum. Another was nestled in a silver hoop through the conch of his ear. 

Dean’s eyes dropped lower, down his torso. A dark green gem glinted from his belly button. The hair on his belly was gone now, replaced by a trail of silvered powder leading to his master’s favorite alteration. 

When Dean had been re-designated as pleasure slave, his master had opted to have him castrated. Dean hadn’t been informed; he’d been unconscious for the procedure. When he’d awoken, the piercings had been done, and there was only a thin pink incision where his balls had always been. 

Dean still wasn’t used to seeing himself without them. As if to highlight their absence, his cock had been altered, too. The head and part of the shaft had been cleanly removed, leaving only a stub. He watched his hand raise unconsciously to the fork of his legs, fingertips hesitantly brushing the largest of the rings encircling the remains of his cock. 

There were three of them, firmly gripping the soft flesh. They served the purpose of securing the metal sound emerging from his plugged slit. It kept his cock slightly curved, showing off the rings and their inset emeralds.

“Don’t touch,” the man told him, returning to stand beside him. “That’s not yours and you’re not to play with it. Do they need to take another inch off?” 

“No, sir,” Dean said quickly, letting his hand drop to his side where it belonged. 

“My name is Tulio. Your master’s tasked me with parts of your training as a pleasure slave. In particular, I’m going to teach you to be… alluring.”

Dean nodded, keeping his eyes down. He felt the man come closer, pressing against Dean’s back. One hand rested on Dean’s hip, the other reached around his chest to cup his jaw. The man forced Dean’s face up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

“In this room, while I am teaching you, you may raise your eyes. I want you to watch yourself, to understand the way you look when you move. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered. In the mirror, his own nakedness was a stark contrast to the neat clothes of his instructor. He could see a blush spreading across his face, down his chest, reaching almost to the strawberry pink of his nipples. His master liked that he blushed; Dean’s silver collar was studded with peridot, meant to bring out the tint in his pale skin. His cheeks and clavicles were adorned with opalescent powder, shimmering in the light. 

Tulio took Dean’s wrists, pulling them away from his sides. 

“Stay just like that.”

Dean obeyed, watching in the mirror as Tulio approached the far wall. There was a long, low table with a laptop resting on it. He tapped a few buttons and music began to play, piped in through speakers that Dean now saw mounted on the walls. 

The music was slow, melodious, the beat strong and repetitive. There were no lyrics. 

Tulio approached him again, and Dean resisted the urge to drop his eyes. His arms were in precisely the position his instructor had left them. 

Tulio seemed to approve. 

“Your master has a gift for you.” 

Dean didn’t react. He held his position, watching as Tulio retrieved a small wooden box. It made a sound when it was set on the table; a jingling, like it was filled with coins. 

Dean watched as Tulio opened it and withdrew a short chain. Dean swallowed. 

It was beautiful. Green gems sparkled in the light, sending off multicolored flashes. Flat disks of silver hung free, chiming against small silver bells. 

Tulio saw him staring and smiled. 

“They’re going to help you learn,” he said, fastening the bracelet around Dean’s wrist. 

There was a matching chain for his other wrist, and two more for his ankles. The last chain to come out of the box was longer, and at first, Dean couldn’t see what it was for. 

Then Tulio wrapped it around his hips, connecting the ends to the cock ring at the base of Dean’s shaft. Immediately, the weight of the chain began to pull at the sensitive skin, and Dean blushed again. 

“Does that hurt?” 

“No, sir,” Dean answered truthfully. 

“Good. One last thing.” 

The ring was pulled again, and when Tulio stepped away, Dean saw that there was a set of smaller chains, hanging in loose arcs from the sides of the ring. They hung in the place his balls had been, framing his altered cock. 

“He has good taste, your master,” Tulio said. 

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered automatically. He looked up to Tulio’s face, but the man wasn’t looking at the jewelry. He was looking at Dean’s face, a smile on his lips. 

“You can put your arms down, now.” 

Dean let his hands return to his sides, the bracelets jingling as he did. Tulio came to stand beside him, leaving about three feet of space between them. 

“I’m going to show you a motion, and I want you to repeat it. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Without further instruction, Tulio held his arm out, rolling at the shoulder and creating an undulation that travelled all the way to his wrist. 

Dean stared. 

“Try it,” the man urged him, and Dean obeyed. The bracelet jingled at the awkward movement. Dean risked a glance back, expecting impatience.

“Keep your thumb pointed up,” Tulio said instead. He repeated the motion, slower, so Dean could see what he meant. “And watch yourself while you do it.” 

Dean obediently returned his gaze to his own reflection, watching his awkward limbs as he tried to repeat the graceful motion. The bracelet chimed again. 

Tulio moved to stand behind him, his hands moving to adjust Dean’s position. Dean let himself go slack, paying attention to the way Tulio moved him. 

When he was released, he tried again. It looked much better. 

“Now try the other side.”

Dean repeated the motion with the other arm, happy with the way it seemed to come easier, even in reverse. 

“Good. Now, I want you to alternate.”

Dean started to move, but Tulio caught his arm. 

“Not yet. Listen. Do you hear the music?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Do you hear the timpani?” 

Dean had no idea what that was, but fortunately, Tulio began tapping his arm in a pattern. After a moment, Dean realized that he was tapping in tune.

“The drum, sir?” 

“Exactly. I want you to move so that the bracelets sound in time with that drum. Understand?” 

Dean nodded. He looked himself over in the mirror, noting that Tulio’s hands hadn’t left his shoulders. 

He made the motion that Tulio had shown him, one side after the other, trying to keep up with the music. He wasn’t perfect, but he managed to keep the sounds mostly aligned. 

“I want you to try moving your shoulders now,” Tulio told him. “Think of a figure eight. One forward, then the other.” 

Dean tried to visualize what the man was describing, but in the end, he didn’t get the movement right until Tulio guided him through it. The man’s hands were strong on his shoulders, showing him where he needed to be. 

When he took his hands away, Dean was left standing alone, watching himself in the mirror as he worked through the motions he’d been shown. 

Tulio seemed pleased, but Dean couldn’t understand why. Even when the chimes of the bracelets matched up perfectly, he still didn’t see the purpose. He felt ridiculous, his gilded body woefully incapable of the performance his master no doubt expected. 

The motions grew smoother as he repeated them, the transitions becoming automatic. Still, Tulio stood back, his arms crossed, watching. 

“I’m going to give you some of this music,” he remarked after a while. “We’re going to be adding some variation, and you’ll need to be familiar with the rhythm.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean said, and this time he actually meant it. The house slaves had chores to attend to during the day, but Dean had been exempted from those duties. He’d expected to have others, but his master hadn’t called on him once since having him altered. Aside from occasions where he was dressed up and paraded through the grounds, Dean was more or less left alone. 

The music would be a welcome addition to his days. Even if he looked unbearably stupid, practicing would at least give him something to pass the time. 

“All right. Hold still for a moment. I want to show you something else.” 

Tulio came up beside him again, and Dean was glad for the opportunity to look away from his reflection. 

“Watch my hips,” the man instructed, and then immediately went through a convoluted set of motions. It looked similar to what Dean had been doing with his shoulders, but with an added angle. Dean stared, watching the languid movements. 

“Do you understand?” Tulio asked him, stilling. Dean shook his head. 

Tulio smiled, coming up behind him again. His fingers trailed down Dean’s sides, past the chain draping his hips. 

“Move with me,” Tulio instructed, moving against Dean’s back. His hands guided Dean’s pelvis, showing him how to move in time with the music. 

Dean blushed again as the movements set his belly chain in motion, the hanging baubles sliding along his skin. The chains behind his cock swung and jingled. Tulio’s body was pressed flush against his back, and as Dean watched, his teacher took him by the wrists, spreading his arms. 

“Now watch what happens when you combine them,” Tulio murmured. He moved Dean’s arms into the beginning position and released them, letting Dean pick up the rhythm on his own.

“You see the way your body stretches and contracts?” 

“Yes sir,” Dean answered. He was still watching his reflection. The movement of his body was setting off highlights on the iridescent makeup across his torso. He’d almost stopped paying attention when he felt Tulio’s hand slide lower, over the curve of his bare ass. 

Dean’s breath caught, but the man continued downward, spreading his palm across the back of Dean’s thigh. 

“Bend at the knee.” 

Dean did, and almost instantly the look of the motion changed; the arch of his belly became much more defined, the motion of his hips more obvious. 

“Keep it bent,” Tulio instructed. His hand slid up the inside of Dean’s thigh and was gone. Dean continued to watch himself, the way his naked body undulated. The bracelets on his hips and wrists added to the rhythm of the music, and Dean found it easy to keep up, now. 

Tulio’s hand rested on his side, turning him slowly in a circle. “Right foot forward. Move with the music. Perfect.”

Dean turned in a circle, his thighs brushing together without anything to separate them. 

“Your body has no secrets, when you move this way,” Tulio told him, and Dean blushed. He had no secrets anyway. Tulio didn’t notice. “The dance puts you entirely on display, open to a touch, or a caress. Seeing this, the stretch of your skin, the exertion in your breath, your master knows how you would look in his bed.” 

Dean faltered at that, resisting the urge to look at his tutor. 

His new master had taken him to bed twice, before buying him and having him castrated. After the first time, Dean had left the bedchamber, burning red with humiliation. He’d gone back to the slave barracks, certain that the experiment had ended. 

No one was more surprised than Dean when he was summoned again. He’d been on his knees, working out the mechanics of a pretty awful blowjob, when the man had informed him that he’d been bought. 

After that had been the surgeon, and the weeks of relative solitude. 

Dean told himself that his master was busy, or was giving him time to heal. Or maybe he only rarely had need of a pleasure slave. 

Turning back to the mirror, though, Dean was forced to confront the other possibility. His eyes dropped to his shortened cock. It bounced a little when he moved, the draped chains sliding across the inside of his thighs. 

No matter what he did, Dean couldn’t shake the fear that his master disliked the way he looked, now. Before, he’d kneaded Dean’s balls in the palm of his hand, and he’d seemed pleased when Dean had hardened. 

Neither of those things were possible now, Dean realized with a shudder. He fell out of rhythm again, faltering when he moved too quickly and the belly chain accidentally pulled against the cock rings. 

“Apologies, sir,” he murmured, rushing to try to pick up the tempo and failing desperately. 

“No matter,” Tulio answered, catching his arms again. “I’m going to show you something else.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Behind them, the door opened. Dean immediately dropped his eyes- then looked back up, startled, when he recognized his new master. 

Tulio glanced over and nodded hello, before turning his attention to back to Dean. 

Dean’s master returned the nod, blue eyes taking in the scene. Dean blushed again, suddenly aware of his instructor’s proximity, the possessive lay of his hands. 

If he minded, Dean’s master said nothing. Instead, he sank into one of the chairs near the table, gesturing at them to continue. 

“This next lesson is about presentation,” Tulio was saying. Dean focused. He was supposed to be learning. “You draw attention to what you have, and you offer it up for the taking.” 

Dean looked back at himself in the mirror, wondering how in the hell  _ that _ was going to work. He had nothing to offer. Wasn’t that the reason for the expensive clothing and jewelry? He was the wall the artwork hung on; his job was to vanish into the background. 

“This is less repetitive,” Tulio explained. “You’re going to work your hands over your body, top to bottom. Move with the music. Watch me.” 

Dean watched, still and increasingly at a loss, while his teacher demonstrated. He started with both hands high, crossed at the wrists. He brought them down symmetrically, his motions seemingly beginning at the shoulders and rippling out towards his fingertips. Inch by inch, he traced the silhouette of his own body. His hips and shoulders moved in tandem, never stopping. 

By the time he’d finished, Dean had the uncanny feeling he’d seen the man naked. 

“You try,” Tulio said, standing to the side and gesturing to Dean. 

Dean lifted his hands above his head, the bracelets jingling, but he didn’t know where to go from there. He couldn’t begin to mimic the beautiful motions that Tulio had made. He froze, his eyes darting to his master’s reflection. 

The man was watching him, his arm propped up on the table, a small smile on his face. 

Dean looked away, back at himself. 

There was no beauty there, none of the dancer’s grace. Just an average house slave, hung with baubles. 

“Move, Dean,” Tulio said, and Dean tried. He could barely stand to look at himself in the mirror. He ended up closing his eyes while he mimicked the actions. 

When he was finished, he held still, not looking at either of the other two. He imagined them exchanging glances, gauging the depth of the mistake they had made. 

“Dean,” his master said quietly. “Come here.” 

Dean opened his eyes, but kept his gaze on the floor as he crossed the room. When he reached his master, he dropped to his knees, the jewelry chiming at the abrupt motion. He kept his eyes on the polished wood floor. 

“I didn’t tell you to kneel,” his master said quietly, and Dean cringed. 

“Apologies, master.” 

He wasn’t sure if he should rise back to his feet. He hadn’t been told to stand. 

“Why did you close your eyes?” 

Dean’s skin flushed pink. 

“I didn’t want to see myself failing.” 

His master reached out, his fingers trailing across Dean’s face. 

“Why do you think you failed?” 

“Because I didn’t- I couldn’t remember the movements he made. I know I didn’t do the same thing.”

His master turned his hand, his knuckles dragging across Dean’s jaw. 

“You don’t need to do the same thing. You’re to draw attention to what  _ you _ have.”

“I haven’t got anything, sir,” Dean answered. His jaw snapped shut instantly, his eyes closing again as he realized he’d just mouthed off to his master. 

The man laughed. 

“Are you doubting my tastes, slave?” 

Dean shook his head vehemently. 

“No, sir. The jewelry and the clothes and everything- they’re real nice, sir. I didn’t know anybody let slaves  _ wear  _ stuff this nice.”

“Only the exceptional ones,” his master answered. He fingered the edge of Dean’s collar. “The ones that will do them justice.” 

Dean’s vision blurred. 

None of this made any sense. 

It was one thing if his master wanted something pretty to fuck. That was common enough. And if he wanted a slave to show off the artwork he owned, then that made sense too. 

But none of that had anything to do with  _ Dean. _ At best, he had the right color eyes and not too many scars. That didn’t make him exceptional. 

“Your last master didn’t keep pleasure slaves, did he.” 

His master didn’t phrase it like a question. More like a realization. 

Dean shook his head, not trusting his voice. 

“Mmmm. Explains why you were sweeping floors when I met you.” 

Dean didn’t answer that. His master continued to stroke the side of his throat. 

“Can I ask a question, sir?” 

“Of course.” 

Dean didn’t raise his eyes, keeping his gaze level with his master’s belly. 

“All this stuff- dressing me up and teaching me to show off and everything… why bother, if you’re not gonna use me for… you know…”

Dean’s face flushed again, thinking of his time in his master’s bedroom. The man’s hand stilled, and behind him, Dean could hear Tulio chuckle. 

“What makes you think I’m not?” 

“Well it’s just, I’ve been here a couple weeks and you haven’t called me and I thought maybe it was because…” 

Dean’s voice caught, and he could feel his eyes stinging, but he was determined not to wipe at them. He wasn’t gonna cry. 

“I figured maybe I’m not any good as a bed slave, since I was cut and all.” 

This time it was his master’s turn to laugh. 

“You know, when I asked Raphael for permission to use you, I thought maybe the two of you had come up with an act. But you really  _ are _ that innocent.” 

His master’s hands resumed their exploration, moving over Dean’s shoulders. 

“Almost all pleasure slaves are gelded. It keeps them from getting distracted while carrying out their duties.” 

His master tapped at Dean’s shoulder, urging him to stand. Dean did, glancing at his master’s face as he rose. It seemed strange to look  _ down _ at a sitting master. 

“Ornaments like this only work on a slave who’s been cut,” his master mused, cupping the silver jewelry encasing Dean’s cock. Dean shivered- it still felt good, in it’s own way. “If you still had your whole penis, it would look heavy and garish. Spread your legs.” 

Dean did, sucking in a short breath when his master palmed the flat space between his thighs. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed, fingering the short scar. “I’ve been waiting for you to heal; that’s why I haven’t called you to my bed. And by the looks of it, you have.”

Without warning, he withdrew, leaving Dean missing the warmth of his hands. 

“Go back to Tulio. Finish your lesson.” 

“Will he be needing the other gift you left him?” the instructor asked. Dean’s master laughed. 

“Oh yes.” 

Dean risked a glance at his reflection as he crossed the room. Tulio had returned to the box that had originally held Dean’s bracelets. 

“Lean over, and put your hands on the mirror,” he instructed. Dean almost glanced back at his master. He’d been mouthy, but not bad enough to warrant being punished- right? 

Tulio approached him from behind as Dean scrambled to comply. He could question his punishment afterward, he knew better than to fight it now. 

“This is just to get you ready for later,” Tulio explained. Something cold dripped onto the base of Dean’s spine, and he shivered. “Watch yourself while I do this.” 

Dean met his own eyes in the mirror, confusion reflecting confusion. Was Tulio going to fuck him? Right here, like this? 

Something hard and cool pressed against his hole, and Dean saw his eyes widening. His mouth dropped into a small  _ o _ of surprise, and a moment later his brow creased as the object pushed further inside. 

It was slick, and once Dean was able to relax, it slid into him without pain. Dean kept his eyes on his reflection, watching his body tense and loosen as he reacted to the intrusion. 

Tulio leaned forward, hooking a finger through Dean’s collar and pulling him upright. 

“That’s what a master sees when he fucks you,” the man murmured in his ear, and Dean blushed. A moment later, he was being spun around.

“This is going to feel odd at first, but you’ll get used to it,” Tulio explained. Dean glanced back. 

Something bright glittered between his cheeks, nestled right up against his hole. Two chains extended from it, cupping the underside of his buttocks before clipping to the chain around his waist. Several other chains hung free, brushing against his thighs and chiming when they moved. 

“I feel like it’s going to fall,” Dean murmured. 

“You should be able to hold onto it. If you can’t, we’ll get you a larger one for the time being.” 

Dean blushed. The plug shifted inside him and he tried to tighten the muscles of his hole. It was deeply unfamiliar. 

“I don’t think I can do it.” 

“You’d be the first bed slave to ever have that problem,” his master remarked, and Dean shut his mouth quickly. Carefully, he focused on holding the plug inside him. 

“Do you remember the movements we practiced earlier?” Tulio asked. Dean nodded. 

“Good. I want you to work through them for a few minutes. Get used to moving with the toy inside you.” 

Dean’s master was watching contentedly, one elbow on the table beside his chair, and Dean tried very hard not to look at him while Tulio restarted the song from earlier. 

It became harder almost as soon as Dean began to dance. Every time he gyrated his hips, the plug would shift inside him, rubbing against some sensitive inner spot. The chains pulled at the cock rings, making it seem like they were  _ stroking _ him. At the same time, the plug inside his cock was forced to push deeper and withdraw, creating the feeling that he was being fucked from both sides. 

It reminded him of that first time, before his new master had decided to buy him. Dean had started on all fours and ended with his face pressed into the mattress, panting and near-delirious as he’d shot his load onto the bedspread. 

It became harder not to revisit that memory, with each movement pressing against the same inner place as his master’s cock. 

“Raise your arms,” Tulio ordered, and Dean did. This time he progressed without fear, moving his hands downwards over his naked body. He could see himself panting slightly, his eyes dark, his cheeks a bright pink. 

_ This is what your master sees,  _ Dean remembered, and he smiled a little. When he glanced back, his master was shifting in his seat. 

Dean raised his arms again, this time turning in a slow circle as he presented. He didn’t need to look at himself any more. He could hear his movements in the rhythm of the chains. He could feel it inside him, and he went with it. 

He suspected the grace might come later. 

He had time to practice. 

“Tulio, you can go.” 

Dean snapped out of it, watching wide-eyed as his teacher bowed to his master and withdrew. Dean was left standing, alone and exposed, in the center of the room. 

The music played on. 

“I knew I wouldn’t regret you,” his master said. “Come here.” 

Reality came crashing back down around Dean as he crossed the room, coming to stand in front of his master. He almost knelt again, but remembered his master’s previous admonition just in time. Instead he simply froze, waiting for instructions. 

They didn’t come. Instead, his master leaned forward, laving his tongue across the underside of Dean’s shortened cock. Dean shuddered at the sensation, soft wet heat juxtaposed with the hard metal rings. 

“They did a wonderful job,” his master mused, withdrawing and suckling at the tip. “They left just enough to play with.” 

Dean blushed, unsure about how to feel. No one had ever done this to him before. 

“Have you played with your cock, Dean? Since the gelding?”

Dean blushed again, deeper. 

“A little, sir.” 

He hadn’t hardened, of course, or climaxed. But it still felt good to touch himself there. The skin between his legs was sensitive, as well. 

His master reached between his legs and fingered the plug, making Dean moan. 

“And what about this? Have you played with your hole?” 

“N-no, sir.” 

“Hmm. You should. I expect you to know how to open and prep yourself. I won’t always have time.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“After this, I’m going to have one of my attendants teach you how to cage and sound yourself, as well.”

Dean swallowed, remembering the feeling of the metal plug sliding into his cock hole. 

“Yes, sir.” 

His master flicked the base of the plug again, so that it pulled at Dean’s rim. 

“How does it feel now?” 

“Um… it feels good, sir.” 

“No pain?” 

“No sir.” 

“Good. Turn around, face the mirror, and take it out.” 

Dean turned obediently, watching his master as the man unclipped the chains. When he’d finished, he leaned back in his seat, watching Dean. One hand dropped between his legs, palming at his cock through his pants. 

Dean reached between his own legs, fingering the head of the plug. There was a ring there, but he wouldn’t be able to pull it all the way out. Not without bending over. Is that what he was supposed to do? 

Hesitantly, he bent at the waist, gripping the toy and working it loose. 

It came free with a warm, wet slide. He could feel his master’s eyes on him.

“Set it on the table,” his master instructed, and Dean hurried to obey. His thighs were wet from the oil that Tulio had used to insert the plug. It smelled lightly of lillies, and Dean realized that his master had used the same oil when taking Dean the first time. 

No sooner had he laid the plug on the table than he felt his master’s hands on him again. Dean hadn’t heard him stand, and he tried to turn, but his master wouldn’t let him. Instead, one firm hand slid up Dean’s spine, coming to rest between his shoulder blades. He pushed Dean down, until his chest was flush with the table. One knee came up between Dean’s thighs, pushing his legs wide. Dean felt his master’s cock pressing against his hole, and he almost protested- he wasn’t ready- but his master pressed in anyway. 

Dean winced, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. His body was lax, tired from the day’s exertions, and it felt good to simply relax into the table. 

“Open your eyes,” his master instructed, and Dean did. He could see himself in the mirror; the long stretch of his body laid out on the table, his master tall and mostly clothed behind him. His master’s hand rested possessively on Dean’s flank, and Dean found that he liked the way it looked. Each time he pushed forward, Dean’s caged cock swung, becoming visible for just a second. Dean was unsurprised to find that he enjoyed the way the weight shifted. 

“So fucking good for me,” his master groaned, and Dean felt the praise coiling warm in his belly. He rocked back into his master’s thrusts, beginning to enjoy the dragging friction of his skin. 

The hand on his hip tightened, and his master finished inside him. He was still for a few moments, panting as he looked down at his slave. Silently, he reached for the plug, sliding out and replacing it in one fluid motion. Dean realized that his master’s come was still trapped inside his body, and he shivered at the thought of being marked there. 

“You have another lesson tomorrow afternoon,” his master told him, already seeming distracted. He turned to leave, then hesitated, turning back. 

“Wear the gold.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This took me so much longer than I was expecting it to take. I've been busy liquidating everything in the shop where I work.   
> Who has two thumbs and is about to have *way* more time to write smut?


End file.
